


The Darkness Hummed

by Jayelyyn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Blink And You'll Miss It) - Freeform, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Progress, Graphic Descriptions of Feelings, Hurt, Memories, Nogitsune Trauma, Somewhat Hopeful Ending, Vague Mention of Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayelyyn/pseuds/Jayelyyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a losing battle, like trudging against the winds of a hurricane, pushing every cell in his body against something so powerful it could only knock him down. </p><p>He doesn't even know where he's trying to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Darkness Hummed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bunch of angst I put together that I thought could actually be seen as a standalone, but is really a part of a crossover I have in the works (that may or may not ever end up on the internet).  
> If you think I'm missing a tag, let me know. I'd be glad to hear your feedback, and feel free to point out any grammatical mistakes I may have made.  
> Also, I know it seems like I'm switching from past to present tense quite a bit; it's hard to explain, but there are some points when Stiles is looking back and other points when he's thinking about the present, but it switches uncontrollably, adding to the confusion/panic he's feeling.

_“You don’t even know the whole story.”_

The words are low, gravelly, embodied only through a pain so resonant no words could describe it.  Roughly his voice projects, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough that it still has an impact—on himself and whomever he’s speaking to.

He’s trying to speak, at least.  He thinks he’s succeeding.

_“I’m not even sure this is real.”_

The truth to the statement is hard to face.  It’s been years, he can tell, since he started feeling this way.  It had never stopped—it still held him in its vice-like grip; maybe not as tight as before, but tight enough to notice.  More than that—tight enough to suffocate.

_“What if it’s agony now…”_

Agony may be the correct term to use—the feeling in his chest, the constant headache, the buzzing at the back of his skull.  The anxiety rolling through his abdomen in never-ending waves, crashing into his gut and threatening to take over his mind.  It never had.

Until it did.

_“…and it’s just hell later on?”_

He had been right.

_“I DON’T KNOW!”_

Desperation was a constant, and it almost hurt more than anything else—desperation was one thing he had never stopped feeling, not since he was ten years old.  It had settled heavily over his shoulders and simply never left.

But there was nothing simple about it.

_“I want to help, you know, but I can’t do the things that you can do.”_

More of it—the desperation.  He only wanted to help, but everything fought against him—even himself.  It was a losing battle, like trudging against the winds of a hurricane, pushing every cell in his body against something so powerful it could only knock him down.  He would get back up, he knew, because he always did.

Yet it seemed to get harder and harder.  As if, every single time he was knocked down by impossible odds, it became just _that_ _much_ more difficult to climb back to his feet.

_“I’m not a hero.”_

His breath trembled as it passed his lips, the words a mere whisper.  He was never meant to be dragged into this hellhole of a situation—he was pale, he was thin, he was almost defenseless.  He never had a chance, both then and now.

 _“We were_ nothing _.”_

…it was true.

They had been nothing to anyone but each other.

Each other hadn’t been enough for them.

Everything was ruined because he couldn’t make do with what he had.

_“Why can’t you trust anyone?”_

He had tried.

_“I’ve given people the benefit of the doubt.”_

A million hearts ripped out at once—that was the “sting” of betrayal.  He had been manipulated and ignored by the people he loved; he had been seen as something lower than what he was, like he was made of the same material as the sludge stuck to the streets.

The _benefit of the doubt_ was something that had been crammed into a trash bag and tossed into a dumpster.

_“I’ve given a lot of benefit to a lot of people.”_

Along with what little hope he had left.

_“Let me in.”_

Existing like this, trapped inside his own body, his own mind, slamming his fists against iron walls until they felt as if they were bleeding—it had never stopped.  Not really.  Not truly.  What had once been a palpable line between reality and dreams was now a bar so razor-thin it could barely be seen.

_“Wake up!”_

He still couldn’t tell the difference.

There was no difference.

_“Wake up!”_

It was still becoming more and more difficult to climb back to his feet.

Learning to push out the burdens dragging him down by his ankles might have something to do with the fact that he’s still walking against the same hurricane, pushing against impossible odds.

_“I feel like I lost something.”_

The hurricane tears at his clothes, pulls harshly at his skin.  Keep walking, keep pushing.

He doesn’t even know where he’s trying to go.

_“I feel like I can’t get it back.”_

His fingers are cold, fighting the brutal wind pushing against everything he’s fighting for.  He can’t feel anything other than the pounding at his temple, a harsh reassurance he’s still alive, still kicking for the right team.  The hurricane lashes at hair, tugging him backward, but—

_“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”_

—he’s still moving in the right direction.  Keeping up the fight against the hurricane may be hard—harder and harder, every day—but he’s still moving in the right direction.

_“You think you can scare me?”_

Waking up in the mornings, cautiously regarding every person passing him in the hallways, tapping his fingers against his legs, breathing slower than a normal person would just to make sure he didn’t descend into darkness—they were all a part of who he was.

Maybe he hadn't been sure if everything was real.

For now, though, he’s surviving against all odds.

_“I’m fine.”_

It wasn't true.

It's close enough.

_“I’m fine.”_


End file.
